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Three German-Americans walk into a bar…

I would try the one with the brass knob first, then the long Mergress, then the regular Mergress. But that's just me, and I'm apparently the only person who actually decided to address the question asked in the thread. :lol:
 
...and not to cast aspersions (I own plenty of "premium" razors) but I still have not found a razor that gives better shaves than the merkur progress. It was my first DE (based on mantic59's advice) as I require mild for my filo-dough face.
+1
 
Bad language is verboten, regardless of what language it's written in.
OK, understood. I promise to use better language. I am also not clear on the "bad grammar" issue. Wouldn't it be better to say: "Bad language is verboten, regardless of in what language it's written in."?
 
I'll tell you a little story that for some reason this thread reminded me of. God knows why...
When I was a little boy growing in the good ol' USSR, my family from time to time used to travel on holidays by train to where our "Uncle Grisha" lived with his wife. His wife was a relative of my grandmother. Well, to make a long story a little shorter, this "Uncle Grisha" fought in WW-II on the Leningrad front, which always had a really bad reputation, even compared to other fronts of the Red Army during WW-II, as a complete and utter horrible meatgrinder where hundreds of thousands of Red Army soldiers lost their lives. Well, our "Uncle Grisha" hadn't lost his life, be he lost one of his legs, when he was wounded in another senseless WW-I style frontal attacks of Red Army soldiers on the German defensive lines near Leningrad. He lied moaning and yelling for someone to help him, but nobody did, and nobody even noticed, and wave after wave of more and more Red Army soldiers kept frontally attacking and getting killed and horribly wounded in their turn, while having to advance towards the German lines stepping on the bodies of their dead and wounded friends, as my "Uncle Grisha". Well, after some time, when he already lost a lot of blood, he lost his consciousness and came back lying in some shabby Soviet field-hospital. They told him they were going to operate him soon and cut his leg. He said: "I prefer to die". Then he tried to fight the nurses and the doctors. After some serious struggle, they got the best of him (well, he was seriously wounded), sedated him, took him to the operation room and cut off his leg. When he came to this time, it was much worse than the first. Well, the main point I forgot to mention is that as a soldier, he was what they call in Russia "razvedchik", meaning, more or less, that he was really... a pretty tough guy. When I asked him as a little boy whether he killed someone or took some guard off by surprise, or as they say in Russia "got hand of a tongue" (when a small group of these "razvedchiks" during the night tries to quietly crawl to the German lines, make their way to the German guards without them hearing it, and kidnapping one, while killing the others, and bringing him back to their commanders so they could extract some information from him. He never answered me. Anyhow, even with one leg he was one hell of a feisty old beggar. And he had a very unusual hobby - in the weekends, he used to walk around, looking for groups of young, as he called it, "hooligans". If they were smoking, or drinking, or making fuss, or bothering by-passers, or even without any reason, he used to walk right close to them and try to annoy and provocate them as much as he could. Many times they just went away, because what could they do to a short-heighted elderly man who was a veteran and had lost a leg in the war, now using a prosthetic leg? But when they were drunk or really upset with him, they tried to attack him somehow. And, of course, that was exactly the thing he was waiting for and doing these little walk-arounds for. In a couple of short seconds he would take care of them all, before they could realize what's happening. Most of the times it did not end up with serious bodily harm,but only because "Uncle Grisha" tried not to cross that line. When he didn't, it sometimes did end up with most serious injuries to those poor fellas, and they tried to sue him in court. But of course it never got anywhere, because the authorities always thought that it wasn't the old cripple war-veteran who started and initiated the whole thing, but rather those young people, who started bothering him.
Well, I would of given my own leg now to be able to get back to the past and spend some more quality time with "Uncle Grisha", talk with him about the war, everything he saw and went through. I'd choose that over being given the most rare and expensive razor. But, alas, he is long gone.

Great story about what sounds like a great man! Thanks for sharing it.
 
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